


Duty of Care

by TheSaddleman



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Canon Compliant, F/M, Foreshadowing, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, Romance, Spoilers for Episode s09e02: The Witch's Familiar, Things Unsaid, a bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSaddleman/pseuds/TheSaddleman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "The Witch's Familiar," the Doctor ruminates over his behaviour on Skaro, and how a young schoolteacher has become so important to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty of Care

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set between "The Witch's Familiar" and "Under the Lake" and offers a theory as to why the Doctor became so protective of Clara and downright obsessed for her safety.

The Doctor knew he’d embarrassed himself, but he didn’t give a damn.

But still, as he thought about it after, he really was puzzled as to why he did it.

He’d seen companions in danger before. He’d even seen them die before. But it took Clara staring down a dozen Dalek eyestalks to drive the Doctor to do something before Davros that he’d never, ever done before.

Beg for mercy.

Not just beg, he went down on blessed bended knee in prayer to the creator of the most evil race in the universe, in hopes that, out of some miracle, the man he had once refused to show mercy to as a boy would somehow be able to call off his monstrosities and let Clara live.

Missy was already dead, or so he assumed. That hurt, too; they’d formed a friendship over centuries that was unique. But Missy was not Clara.

Clara, who had somehow managed to track the Doctor down across time, just to see if he was OK.

Clara, who the Doctor was so relieved to see standing before him in the medieval castle that he dropped all pretense of not being a hugger and just wrapped her in his arms. 

If he’d been his earlier bowtie-wearing self, he’d have probably done some grand romantic gesture like kiss her, but that wasn’t how he rolled anymore.

No, how he rolled now appeared to be, “ _Beg for Clara’s life at all costs._ ”

And then the Daleks fired, and he heard the scream. It was short, sharp, and cut him to the bone. And he honestly felt like his lives were over. 

Still, he clung to the hope that it was a trick. He threatened the Daleks to deliver her safe, unharmed. They refused. His hope began to vanish.

And then, miraculously, there she was. Hidden away inside a Dalek. Missy had nearly forced him to kill her, which instantly destroyed any gratitude he had for her using her vortex manipulator to save Clara in the first place.

After releasing Clara from the Dalek, he’d wrapped her in his arms as she sobbed with relief. He’d also kissed her — just on the forehead. Like he used to do. And Clara’s smile told him it would be all right. 

It was just another scrape they’d escaped from, adrenaline pushing them to run into the heart of the Dalek control room where he took a chance to show off his new sonic specs, and the newly upgraded Hostile Action Dispersal System. He was showing off. To her. And by the way she looked at him as he said, “Same old same old, just the Doctor and Clara Oswald in the TARDIS”… it made it all worthwhile.

But he had still debased himself, bending the knee to one of his mortal enemies. Why?

The Doctor sat back in his chair, looking down towards the TARDIS console where Clara was manning the controls, continuing her lessons on how to fly the ship. Occasionally, she’d glance his way, her eyes filled with joy as she piloted the TARDIS through the vortex like it was the greatest thing in the universe. It was, of course. Well, nearly the greatest thing, the Doctor thought, as he gazed at her — her eyes, fixed on the rotor, prevented her from really noticing how the Doctor was drinking her in.

And then he knew why he’d begged for her life. And why he couldn’t bear the thought of it happening again. He knew now how he felt. And what that meant. Such feelings never ended well for him. Rose, River … 

The Doctor came down from his perch overlooking the console and sidled up next to Clara. Her hand was on a control lever, and the Doctor gently placed his hand over hers.

“Gently, now,” he said. “You need to finesse it, otherwise you might bounce off a supernova and she just redid the paint on her police box camo.”

“Nitpicker,” Clara joked. Her incredible eyes dancing with delight as they gazed at the Doctor, and this time it was the young schoolteacher who was drinking him in. Not long ago, the Doctor, this Doctor, would have been oblivious to this, or perhaps had written it off as another design flaw. No longer.

The urge hit him to just say what he felt. Now was a great time. There was no danger, she was in a good mood, the adrenaline of Skaro had died down so both could think clearly. This would have been the time. Before she found somebody else. Before he lost her.

Instead, he asked, “Clara. Do you want to keep travelling with me?”

Clara cocked her head in puzzlement. “Why would you ask that?”

“You nearly died on Skaro.”

“Yes, and I nearly died at the North Pole or wherever the hell we were, and on Trenzalore, and in Bristol, and on that amusement park planet with the Cybermen, and in the submarine. Did I say I didn’t want to travel with you then?”

“There was the moon.”

“That was me thinking you were an ass and having a wobble because I didn’t understand you at the time. And you also have to know I was torn with Danny, too. It had nothing to do with the danger.”

“But I thought you were really dead this time. And then I nearly killed you.”

“But I wasn’t and you didn’t, and that’s the important thing, Doctor. We fixed it. We always fix it.”

“Someday, we might not be able to fix it, Clara.”

Clara released her grip on the lever, and the TARDIS entered a holding pattern. Something in the Doctor’s eyes worried her. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked into them.

“Doctor, I’ll be fine. This is our life. Danger comes with the territory. But please don’t worry about me.” She pulled the Doctor towards her so that she could lean up and kiss him on the cheek. “We’re together. That’s what matters to me. You and me, in the TARDIS — same old, same old, remember. The universe at our fingertips.”

The Doctor looked into her eyes. Now was the time. 

“Clara,” he finally managed. “I …”

For a second, the Doctor saw images flash through his mind. Good images. Bad images. Images of Clara laughing, smiling, hugging, kissing. Images of Clara screaming, crying, bleeding, dying.

What right did he have to keep her? What right did he have to put her in danger? What would he do if anything happened to her? Now that he’d had his regenerations renewed, death held little of the fear it had towards the end of his last life. Clara couldn’t regenerate. If she ever died, that would be it. Over. No more. And no way could he ever do anything to fix it. 

Ripples. Tidal waves. 

But she was making a choice, here and now. Not everything the Doctor and Clara did together was dangerous. Sometimes they just found a nice quiet place to watch the stars go by. Maybe next time that’s all there would be. No Missy, no Daleks. No danger. Maybe the TARDIS would realize that, this time, she didn’t need to always take the Doctor where he was needed. That she’d let the Doctor, and Clara, just enjoy each other for a while. And to whatever deities might be listening, a prayer that they never arrived at a place where he might be faced with losing Clara.

Three words formed themselves in his mind. Words he suddenly realized he wanted to say to Clara more than any other. Words he had felt ever since he first met her, but he'd either been too distracted with puzzling out who she was, or puzzling out who _he_ was, to really focus on them. No, that was a lie ... he'd focused on them a lot, even after the change. He'd thought of them when he thought he was doing the right thing by telling Clara he no longer thought of himself as her boyfriend; when he'd heard her say those words to Danny on the _Orient Express_ and then bizarrely changed her mind about ending her travels with him; he very nearly said them to her as he forgave her for trying to blackmail him into undoing Danny's death — he'd realized that saying it then would have been cruel and perhaps even tasteless given her raw grief over Danny, so he'd pivoted and said something else instead. He was going to say them when he thought he was visiting Clara at the end of her life during the dream crabs incident, but "Santa Claus" had interrupted him — he had no complaints on that occasion.

But now he knew he could never say those words to her. If he did, he knew she would never leave his side, no matter what the cost. And if she ever said those words to him … even just _one_ of the words (well, the one that _mattered_ , anyway) then, by the gods, he would fracture time itself to keep her with him.

No. Too dangerous. Instead, three new words formed in his mind. Words that, ironically, Clara herself had spoken to him on the moon, when she’d expressed the responsibility she had towards her student, Courtney. 

The Doctor knew he could never allow himself to say a certain three words to Clara. So he would use three other words, and hope that she’d understand.

“I just want you to know that I …” the Doctor couldn’t meet her eyes, for some reason.

“I … what, Doctor?” Clara looked up at him. 

The Doctor stared down at the console.

“I have a duty of care.”

Clara smiled. “That’s so sweet. My Doctor.” She sighed. “Let’s find somewhere quiet to forget Skaro and just enjoy ourselves.”

“I have just the place in mind. It’s the New Year’s Eve party to end all New Year’s Eve parties.”

The Doctor pushed a few buttons and threw the lever, and looked forward to seeing Clara’s reaction when she saw the inhabitants’ two-foot-long necks. 

Duty of care. The Doctor mulled the three words over in his mind. He wasn’t sure if Clara realized what he was saying or not. But for now, he just enjoyed being with her.

Same old, same old, the Doctor thought. Just the Doctor and Clara Oswald in the TARDIS. Long may we run.


End file.
